


Help From An Old Friend

by yellowbessie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Death, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowbessie/pseuds/yellowbessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine End of Time Ten visiting Fitz on the Tour Of Companions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help From An Old Friend

Fitz shivered and pulled the thin, scratchy hospital blanket up to his neck. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn’t forty _mumble_ years old and stuck in a freezing London hospital, but the beeping monitors and IV stuck in his arm made it impossible to imagine he was anywhere else.

Thank God Anji wasn’t here to see this. She would’ve been insufferably smug. ‘You’re going to get cancer if you keep smoking those,’ she warned him over and over again.

But each time he brushed her off. ‘Nah, not gonna live that long. Going to die a young hero - saving the day, saving the universe, and - most importantly! - saving the girl. Just you wait, Anj, it’s going to be proper tragic. They’ll write songs about me and everything.’

Oh, for the confidence of youth! Now it seemed Fitz’s death was destined to mirror his life: both disappointing let-downs.

Fitz’s wallowing was interrupted by two sets of footsteps approaching the curtain around his bed. A familiar nurse’s voice warned, ‘Watch out for this one. He’s a flirt!’ Then, she walked away.

The curtain _snncked_ back to admit a strange young doctor, one that Fitz hadn’t seen before. The man was tall, skinny, with bold brown sideburns and unruly hair. A bit like young Kreiner himself, but much better looking.

‘Oh, I think I can handle him,’ the new doctor murmured, softly but confidently. 

Their eyes met and Fitz was hit with an overwhelming sense of _familiarity_. The stranger approached the bed, holding himself stiffly, as if in pain but trying to conceal it (’you learn how to spot these things, if you spend long enough in hospital,’ Fitz thought to himself).

The doctor checked the monitors, and took out a device that warbled just like -  
No, scratch that. It _was_ the sonic screwdriver!

’ _Doctor_?’ Fitz asked. It was only two syllables, but his voice broke on the word.

The Doctor nodded in confirmation.

‘You’re… But you look… You never…’ Fitz started sentences, but abandoned them mid-thought. He’d often dreamed of meeting the Doctor again, and had planned out _just_ what he would say in that situation. Of course, now - in the moment - he was dumbstruck.

The Doctor quickly injected something into the IV. He wasn’t cheating, it was a drug that existed in this time. The doctors might even have stumbled onto it in the course of treatment. Then again, they might not have tried it in time.

The Doctor approached the bed and pressed his forehead against Fitz’s. Like they had done years ago, their noses bumped together and they breathed the same air. Fitz tried not to fall apart. He lasted about 4.6 seconds.  
  
Curling in on himself, Fitz scrubbed tears off stubbled cheeks. ‘You _left_ me!’ he sniffed. ’ _Again!’_ _  
_

_’_ I know.’ The Doctor whispered, voice infinitely sad. 'And I’m sorry, Fitz. I’m so, so sorry.’ He sounded sincere, but the apology sounded like one he’d given far too often.

Silence hung between them for a second, a minute, an hour - who could tell?

Fitz finally broke it, 'You’re not well, either, are you?’

The Doctor inhaled sharply though his nose. 'No,’ he admitted, 'I’m not. This body won’t last much longer, I’m afraid. One last tour before moving on.’

'Can I do anything? To help?’ Fitz wiped a hand under his nose, trying to regain composure.

'No. This was foretold, I’m afraid. It’s terribly gauche to disappoint prophecy.’ The Doctor brightened with false enthusiasm, 'You’ll be on the mend soon enough.’

'What about you, though?’ Fitz asked, still teary.

'I…. have a date with destiny, Fitz Fortune. And shouldn’t be late for it.’

The Doctor pushed back Fitz’s mop of hair, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Brown and gray eyes met for the last time. So many words still to be said. _'Goodbye’_  
'I’ve missed you’   
'Don’t leave’   
'I love you’   
but they just stared at each other. Fitz blinked. The Doctor was gone.

Fitz slept deeply that night, for the first time since his diagnosis. Had it all been a dream, he wondered? Or had the Doctor really come and cured him? 

He couldn’t believe that the Doctor would show up, after all these years. But, then again, he couldn’t believe a fifth of the things the Doctor had actually done.


End file.
